I Don't Want to Say 'Goodbye'

Summary: Emma is seriously injured in Neverland and Charming has to come to grips with the fact that he might lose his daughter. Emma/Charming/Snow.

The moment the bullet hit seemed to pass in slow motion. There had been shouting and struggling before, and for a while it seemed like good might finally win, but when the cataclysmic boom of the gun shook the forest around them and sent the birds shooting out of the trees, when Emma's green eyes went dull and she fell to the ground, there was nothing. Only silence.

Peter Pan and the other boys ran like they always did, leaving David standing in the clearing on his own, forced to pick up the pieces of what they had destroyed.

A choked whisper burst from his throat as soon as his brain forced together what had happened. "Emma." He ran to her, kneeling down and peeling her jacket back to see how bad the wound was. Upon seeing the crimson stain that was quickly spreading over her abdomen, all his mind could think was "Emma," "Emma," "Not Emma."

He quickly took off his vest and used it to apply pressure to the wound, trying to staunch the bleeding until someone found them. Snow and Regina were supposed to meet them at the river. He just had to keep her conscious until they came. He gathered her in one arm and pulled her close, trying his best not to cause her more pain.

Emma lay across his legs, looking up at his tear-streaked face. She thought she should probably be panicking or repenting or something, but all she could think about was how she had a dad. And how he cared enough about her to cry over the fact that he might lose her.

She remembered the picture in Henry's book of Prince Charming placing his baby in the wardrobe. When she'd seen it the first time, it had been nothing but two characters. Now she knew it was them. And twenty-nine years later, he was holding her in his arms again, but she was the one with the wound — the one who had been a hero.

"Now," she choked, giving him a very weak but cheeky grin, "we're even."

Charming scoffed. "That isn't funny." He said as a fresh stream of tears began to roll down his cheeks. He couldn't lose his daughter. Not now. Not like this.

But Emma didn't have the strength to fight it anymore. She had fulfilled the prophecy, done everything she was supposed to do. She had loved. She had forgiven. Maybe, she thought, this was how it was all supposed to go. This wasn't her happy ending—no—but she'd had so many happy moments in between all of the pain. She'd found her parents. And they loved her so much. More than she ever thought anyone could love another person. And Henry. Henry had found her. He'd given her everything she believed she didn't deserve. He was beautiful and strong and hers.

"I love you, Dad," she whispered.

"Don't do that. You're not going to die. You're not going to die." The words became a mantra and Emma knew he wasn't only saying them for her — he was saying them for himself. He moved the hair away from her eyes with the pad of his thumb and looked at her as though he was trying to will the life back into her body through love alone. If only it were that easy. True Love was capable of many things, but not even its power could cheat death.

"Emma, you have to hold on. Your mother will find us."

At the mention of her mother, she smiled weakly. It was almost funny, now, thinking back to that day in Storybrooke when she followed the mayor to the elementary school to confront some woman named Mary Margaret Blanchard. She'd had no idea how much the woman kneeling in front of her, picking up books that Regina carelessly knocked over, would change her life.

Emma was glad she'd had the chance to know her mother, even if it was only for a little while. It had all been too overwhelming before — thinking about the fact that she was from a different world, that she was Snow White. But it was simpler now. Now she was just her mom. And it was so cruel that when she had finally accepted how much Snow loved her, and finally realized how much she loved her back, it was too late.

"Tell'er I love her," Emma choked out, which only made David cry harder. He couldn't tell his wife their daughter was gone.

"Emma, listen to me." He ground out. "You're going to be fine, all right?"

She shook her head and took the biggest breath she could. She had to tell him one last thing. "Dad — let Regina have Henry. Tell'er — I l'ways believed she was good."

Her father only nodded at that, but she knew he'd follow through. He had seen the change in Regina and she figured, somewhere deep down, he knew she was good too.

Her eyes started to flutter. All she wanted to do was sleep. Something was beckoning her away from the world, whispering for her to follow it. Her dad's voice seemed far away, and she could only make out a few words here and there.

"Emma... don't... not ready... goodbye."

And then everything just stopped. She didn't feel scared. In fact, she felt calmer than she had in a long time — like she was exactly where she was supposed to be. She couldn't hear her dad anymore. Everything was silent. Her breath came in one long exhale. But this time, she didn't breathe in again.

A/N: Is she really dead? Reviews appreciated.